


Cats at Rest

by Little_Guy



Series: How to raise your bitty [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bittybones (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Swapfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Fluff, GNC Character, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Panic Attacks, Platonic Relationships, Swapfell Papyrus (Undertale), Swapfell Sans (Undertale), Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), minor and brief but there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23400514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Guy/pseuds/Little_Guy
Summary: “Get th’ fuck offa me furbag,” He grunts, voice gravelly from sleep and possibly too much green magic (sue him, he’d gotten into a fight with a good fer nothin’ human) flushed into his system. Doomfanger sniffs, her collar letting out a grating noise as she considers her duty of the morning finished. “Fuckin’ finally, Boss needs ta stop feedin’ yer ass!”
Relationships: Papyrus & Sans (Undertale)
Series: How to raise your bitty [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1680895
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	Cats at Rest

**Author's Note:**

> Or: Slim and Red Joke
> 
> Me, have a bias for red and slim? no never, not at all. All honesty though besides some fluff there is a minor panic attack and the thought of self harm as a soothing motion so if that makes you uncomfortable please tread lightly or ignore this work.

Red awakens to his brother’s fuckin’ cat swatting at his skull. A joy. The fucker ( _ Doomfanger, Sans!  _ He hears in his head, as if the fuckin’ leech was worth such a great name from his little bro) looks proud of its self, tail flecking behind it primley as if a  _ damn cat  _ was above him.

“Get th’ fuck offa me furbag,” He grunts, voice gravelly from sleep and possibly too much green magic (sue him, he’d gotten into a fight with a good fer nothin’ human) flushed into his system. Doomfanger sniffs, her collar letting out a grating noise as she considers her duty of the morning finished. “Fuckin’ finally, Boss needs ta stop feedin’ yer ass!”

He doesn’t get an answer. Why would he? It’s a fuckin’ cat (a good fer nothin’ cat that for some  _ ungodly  _ reason makes Boss happy; only reason he hadn’t skined that damn thing) one that tore him from the blissful embrace of sleep and damn good dream of him creamin’ the entirety of the fuckin universe meltdown club’s usual card game. Red had made  _ so  _ much coin. He’d just have to make sure he did, ain’t no reason the dream couldn’ta been a premonition of some sort.

Groaning Red drags himself out of bed a warm rush of magic still runnin’ through his bones. Papyrus was shit at offensive magic, but that didn’t really matter when he had Sans and the ability to heal fuckall at his whim. He digs into his closet, adding a new sock to the pile and crude  _ don’t forget to fuckin’ skin the cat  _ kind of note to the pile for Papyrus to bitch at ‘im for. It always was fun to rile him up, he’d get so red in the face that Red could crack plenty of jokes and not face any kind of repercussion. His bro really was the best at  _ everything. _

His coat now shrugged on and cozy a-top everything else for the day Red makes his way downstairs, mouth already salivating at the scent of pancakes. This universe was good for one things and that was bein’ able to enjoy Boss’ food every goddamn day if they wanted to (and sure, Red might bitch about eatin’ out, but at the end of th’ day he’d be home, eatin’ whatever Pap, put on the table), true fuckin’ blessin’ in disguise.

Hell, he’s sitting at the table and shoveling a whole cake into his mouth when he notices their…  _ guests  _ (used loosely for one of them). “Th’ fuck ‘s’he doin’ here?” It’s too early in the goddamn mornin’ to be dealin’ with Pipsqueak and his pissy ass attitude. “Don’t you have an old lady to skewer?”

Razz sniffs, tilting his head away from the vile creature (Just like fuckin’ Doomfanger, no wonder the cat reminded him of somebody), and even nudging Slim back down before he could scurry over to his… unfortunate friend. “As A Matter Of Fact, I Have A Job From My Queen. Edge Is The Only One I Trust To Attend To Slim’s Needs While I’m Gone,” He narrows his sockets as he watches Red continue to eat like an uncivilized dog. “I Would Hope That Since The  _ Last  _ Time That You Would Behave Yourself.”

Heh, yeah the Pipsqueak still hadn’t forgave him for showin’ Slim some fun. Well, Razz musta been dumber than he thought if the other him really thought he wasn’t gonna show the runt somethin’ enjoyable. Rattle his bones a little. “Course, pipsqueak.” Then, promptly tearing a piece of cake from the rest he sets it aside, “C’mere runt, eat up. Best fuckin’ thing you’ll ever have.”

Slim glances up at his captain, waiting just long enough for the begrudgingly given nod (ha, soon enough he’d have the runt learnin’ to just go for it, no permission needed when it came to food), “thank you, uh, Edge?” 

His brother just nods, his  _ Classy, Sassy, and just a bit Smart Assy  _ apron pristine in comparison to the rest of the kitchen (though Red’s sure that won’t last long, Pap always was a cleaning whizz). Huffing Red, tears him another piece happy to see somebody else enjoy Pap’s cooking just as much as him. “Gotta fill you up or there won’t be nothin’ fer ya to dress up runt. All them cute clothes and you’re just  _ skin no bones _ ,”

He hears Razz struggle to keep in a growl at the jokes, but hey? He can handle asshole supreme when Puppy is trying not to choke on his laughter. The runt had gotten quite comfortable with his jokes after the last couple of outings he’d gotten away with and Red was quite proud of his progress. He swears he even hears Pap try to hide a laugh as a cough.

“That Is Enough! I Will Not Have You… You Twisting Slim Into Some Kind Of Conquest!” Oh stars, he’s goin’ to bust a rib. Razz really thought he was–

He can’t hold it in. Red wheezes at the dining table like it’s the only thing that matters, and to be honest in that moment it is. Razz was a fuckin’ idiot, but as he manages to finally take in enough air to stabilize himself and look over in Slim’s direction he has a fuckin’ genius idea. And, clearly Slim catches his drift as he scoots a little closer (he could cry from joy, the runt was  _ learnin’ _ ! Not just that, but he was learnin’ how to fuck with his brother a little, a true champ. A skeleton after ‘is own soul). 

Slim carefully, oh so carefully (Skittish still, worried he’s doin’ somethin’ wrong, but Red knows. He knows that all three of ‘em would do everythin’ to make it up for him if he really was frightened) curls his much tinier fingers around one of Red’s clawed ones, expression straightlaced– he glances at Razz, willing himself to not topple over at the sheer befuddlement and anguish all mixed in one on Razz’s face; this is gold, he could die happy– “red has treated me really well cap’in, i’d be overjoyed if you would give him a chance?” Oh the eyes.

Red has no fuckin’ clue  _ where  _ the runt had learned that trick but watching  _ Razz _ (Razz of all monsters, mister holier than thou and  _ You’re Not Even Worth The EXP,  _ Razz) fuckin’ wilt like a dehydrated flower is too much. He loses it right as Slim’s keeper looks as if he’s about to fold. 

“I, Well, If He Really…  _ Really Does, Slim _ –Why Are You Laughing You Ungrateful Mongrel!” Because he can’t fuckin’ take it anymore. He’s practically fallin’’ out of his chair from the short interaction. “Red You’re Hardly Worth Any Kind Of Interest From Slim!” yeah, no shit. 

Well, at least Edge comes to their rescue before Razz really does skewer them, with a cough no less. “Gentlemen No Destroying My Kitchen Or I  _ Will  _ Destroy You. I Will Make Sure My Brother Does Not String Along Slim, Razz, Now Hurry Or You Will Be Late.”

Razz, for all intents and purposes that Red can recognize hisses at him like a fuckin’ deranged cat coating Slim’s choker in a  _ second  _ layer of magic; as if the first layer of  _ Fuck Off  _ wasn’t already an amazing deterint to anyone that wasn’t Red. After all, he prided himself on fuckin’ with others.

Of course, he may have spoken too soon as Edge whirls to stare the both of them down, spatula held tight in his hand. “You Will Behave, Sans! It Is Slim’s First Time Out Of His Home And We Will Be Perfect Hosts While He Is Here, Understood?”

He gives a half assed salute, helping Slim climb onto his shoulder and into the fluff of his hoodie, “Course, Boss, just wanted to razzle ‘im a bit. Slim’s safe with me, i’d never do nothin’ to him we were just havin’ a laugh, weren’t we runt?’

He feels the clack of bone against his cranium (Slim’s elbows no doubt, the little shit) and the draping of his skirt as he gets comfortable on his new throne. “indeed, uh, mister Edge?” oh  _ mister Edge, huh?  _ Runt really was a skeleton out fer their souls, this was goin’ to be a fuckin’ amazing time.

Edge coughs, a sprinkle of red on his cheek bones (aww look at that, couple minutes in and the runt had already embarrassed Boss), “Edge Is Just Fine, No Mister Needed Slim. Razz Mentioned That You Had Some Designs That You Had Some Interest in?”

Ah, well there went their possible time out. 

He feels Slim nod, the whole motion making him wobble a top his head. He, very quickly presses a finger over the smaller skeleton’s legs to keep him in place. “that is correct, yes, captain said that you have an inclination for those kinds of things and that you had been the one to make me a few things. I would be more than happy to help with chores to repay you!”

“None Of That Slim. Simply Keep Red In Check For The Day— not even real faith from his bro, he’s wounded— “And You Will Owe Me nothing.”

Well, that  _ should  _ keep Slim from being too nervous, a task is a task is a task after all. Or, somethin’ like that. “I, i think i can do that… Red is rather agreeable to be around.” As he was sayin’ a skeleton after his own soul.

Papyrus nods, seemingly pleased with the discussion before he holds out his hand for Puppy to jump on. “First However, We Will Talk About Your Preference Of Fabrics. Sans You May Join If You Wish Just Do Not Destroy Anything.”

“Course, Boss i know that,” Then at Slim’s nervous look, he adds, “don’t you worry runt, Pap’ll have you dressed as nice as them folks in the red district.” Did Slim even know what that was? Eh, he’d cover it later.

“... No He Will Not Sans.” Oh. Guess it wasn’t the right thing to say then? “Even One Such As Magnificent As Myself Would Fail To Replicate Some Of The Higher End Establishments Clothing.” Apparently not.

He watches in amusement as Slim hurries to reassure his bro that  _ i’m sure you’d be amazing Edge! All the clothes you made for me so far have been amazing! _ The runt was going to get along with them just fine.

  
  
  


Satin! That would be the perfect fabric Edge was certain of it; expensive sure but when was he going to show off his craft to such a good first again?

“Slim!” The mini skeleton looks up from where he’s untangling the fur of Sans’ jacket. “Come, Feel.”

Sans pops opens a socket turning Slim’s soul piece blue to help him settle at his brother’s work table. “He don’t bite runt, you’ll be fine,” then, the sockets close again. Papyrus can’t help but huff, once a lazybones always a lazybones.

Turning to their tiny guest he carefully lays out the piece of fabric, stepping back so that he isn’t crowding the tiny skeleton (unlike a certain monster).

Slim is hesitant, scraping his hands against his skirt as if  _ he is somehow undeserving  _ (sees himself as  _ unclean, I shouldn’t touch such nice things! What have I done to deserve it? A trick?)  _ his own clawed phalanges twitching tight against his palms and Edge swears he hears a crack. “are… can i really touch it? it’s so… pristine…”

Reaching forward slowly, slowly (as if Slim is like an old alley cat) Edge reaches for his hand, giving him time to scurry if he isn’t ready (might never be ready entirely) to be touched without initiating it, and slowly drags Slim’s fingers over the fabric, keeping it steady even when the skeleton starts to tremble.

Before, he might’ve considered Slim weak. Their own home has been harsh, far harsher than this current universe; starvation, dusting for fun, fear and anger twisted into something new. There Edge would’ve asked his brother to dust this monster out of mercy, unable to do such an act himself (and isn't that pathetic?) but now.

Now. He knows better. He and Sans have their own trauma, some of relatable others not and  _ now  _ they don’t have to be harsh. Here they can attempt to help if they wish—can pursue other activities.

And well. Papyrus has always known he’s a oblivious, a bit too forgiving, a bit easy; but he thinks, that Slim deserves that easy care and kindness. They’re all in a universe where it’s possible.

So as their tiny companion starts to shake from some fear unknown Edge does what he can, volume low as he orders his brother, “Grab Doomfanger and the pile I was working on.”

He hears the lumbering steps for a few moments before the  _ pop _ of his brother teleporting. Then, and only then does Edge make sure to keep Slim’s fingers away from the rest of himself, careful of pushing to far lest his rib cage expand too much and burst in this panic.

“You’re safe,” he rumbles, projecting as much positive magic as he can toward Slim’s much smaller soul. “You’re in my and Red’s apartment, it’s is currently ten in the morning, and you are  _ safe.” _

He repeats it until Sans returns, continues repeating it even as his brother scrambles to place all of the soft outfits Edge had been making their tiny friend for the past couple of days. He continues on (Slim’s soul slows first, a fear filled  _ thump thump thump _ ), and on (Doomfanger curling tight around the little skeleton until arms go slack and soft against the fur), and on (until Slim’s eyelights return and his sockets fill with magic to the point that they burst).

Once, long ago Papyrus would have seen a weak monster to be dusted out of mercy. Now he sees a monster filled with strength to go one and get stronger than whatever haunts him with the proper health and support.

And so he stays there, sending Sans to get anything soft and warm, and  _ nice  _ for Slim to touch or bundle up in.

Even after he stays. The little whisper of, “thank you.” Sending a relief through his body, verbal responses are good. “...i, ‘m sorry for getting your things dirty.”

“It’s alright, it’s not stain that the great papyrus cannot deal with,” he keeps his tone lower, movements slower than earlier in case Slim doesn’t want to be touched as he moves him closer to Doomfanger. “You’ve done no wrong. Why don’t you tell me about what you have in mind?”

Slim latches on to, knowing well what it is and thankful for it. “oh, w-well… maybe a real uniform?” It’s hesitant and soft but Edge nods anyway, pen and pad in hand to take it as seriously as he does any other design. “I. i like my coat, but, I think I should be more formal, like… like Razz,” he says the other skeletons name as if it’s something glorious (and to him it is, Edge is sure) as if he shouldn’t dare to use it. “he’s always dressed so nicely while I just have the coat an, a shirt or simple pants,”

He fiddled with the band around his arm careful to scratch at it and nothing else even if there are tremors to his fingers again. Edge nods, pen already sketching out a few things, “You Want To Be More Fornal?”

“yes!” He says it with some much ferocious desperation that Edge worries that perhaps this wasn’t the way to deal with this. And then. It’s soft again, a sniffle there and  _ oh _ he understands.

Giving Sans a terse look to  _ Stay Where He Is _ because of course Edge is aware that he’s worried, but crowding and jokes aren’t best here. So, instead he offers, “Tell Me About What You Have In Mind?”

Slim tries to keep his noses to a minimum fingers scrunching into the fabrics that he can’t hurt so he doesn’t scratch at himself; a soothing motion he’s sure now. “i… i want it to be like his… like’m actually someone important. nothin’ shiny or anything like that just, I want to feel like ‘m actually part of something.”

He nods, a simple design already in mind to work with Slim’s coat. “Do You Want Something You Can Dig At.”

Slim freezes, eyelights wide before—“ _ yes,”  _ and he doesn’t ask. Just writes it down, he can discuss things with Razz later about possible items to help,

“Can You Think Of Anything Else You Want?”

He watches his companion sneak a glance at his brother, who in turn tries to give a supportive if tense smile back, “maybe… more fur?”

“That Can Be Arranged.”A soft pressure against his shoulder; Slim slumped against it and Doomfanger in an odd array. “Would You like Something To Eat?”

“yes please if it wouldn’t be too much.”

He sends Sans another look, his older brother already taking his place as Edge gets up to make something simple. His brother always was better at these kinds of things.

* * *

Crouching as close as he dares with Doomfanger hanging around the runt, Red props the other up with some magic. “Can ya look up at me,” no doubt Slim’s exhausted all the energy he’s got in his little soul for the day. 

But he looks up anyway, dried lines of magic on his skull included, a purr from Doomfanger vibrating the little trooper. “‘S it okay to grab ya?”

Papyrus had been the same once; skittish around touch and  _ angry  _ when that rule was ignored. Slim’s really not hard to accommodate. So, Red waits. Watches the runt let out a tired whine as he curls closer to the goddamn cat (somethin’ soft, somethin’ warm) before he gets the shortest of nods he’s ever gotten.

It’s an answer though, so he scoops up both Doomfanger and the runt, keeping him as close to his own soul as he can. He feels a tug at his jacket when he’s half way down the stairs, a pretty shoddy attempt at climbing into his pocket.

“A’right runt lets get ya somewhere the cat can’t fuckin’ sit on ya.” A grumble, from the runt or the cat he’s not too sure. “Don’t get fussy ‘s just a fuckin’ nap an’ some food.”

Another stir, this one more stable. Course the mention of food would make him excited, especially Pap’s food, best fuckin’ thing on the planet. “don’t needa nap,”

He snorts dropping Doomfanger when he reaches the couch, letting the little skeleton crawl up next to his soul. “Not sayin’ you do. ‘M sayin’ that we’re gonna fuckin’ nap cause it’s great. Then yer goin’ta stuff your face with food and Pap’ll finish his work.”

There’s a short nip at the finger he tries to poke the runt with before backing off. “you won’t tell Razz… will ya?”

“Course not ya little shit,” Eh, probably not the best nickname he could give but hey Slim wasn’t complaining so he’d keep it. “I look like a snitch ta you?”

At first, when he doesn’t get an answer Red thinks the little runt  _ did  _ in fact think he was. So the playful growl was just to start up a game, well, it was supposed to. When all he got from that was a little purr, well, who was he to interrupt the sacred act of napping?

Shifting about on the couch Red eyes the kitchen with one socket, claws carefully scratching at the runt’s cranium. “‘Ey, Pap, don’t think you’ll need somethin’ for the runt right now.”

He can practically hear his brother roll his eyes as the rustle of utensils being put away creates a nice lull. The click of his bro’s boots is gone, just loungewear and the fluffy bunny socks Sans had  _ somehow  _ gotten him (heh, bro would definitely be scandalized if anyone new walked through their door) in their place. Balanced on both hands is a plate of lasagna, the love put into each palpable even from where he’s lying on the couch.

“He Will Eat Something When He Wakes Up.” Red just hums shoveling lasagna into his mouth, (runt’s lucky he enjoys the dish so much or there’d definitely be pieces on him by the end of it) despite the disgusted tick Edge lets out. “Stop Such Behavior. It’s Unbecoming,” there’s even his customary derisive sniff; man Red has missed this.

Sure his bro was a bit of a bone-breaker when it came to fun, but he didn’t really have a malicious bone in his body; just a sharp tongue and disdain for poor manners.

“Pap,” 

“Yes, Sans.”

He sits up keeping a hand tucked up Slim to make sure he don’t fall into the void that is their couch. “Think ‘m gonna introduce him to card night. We’re watchin’ him for a few days aren’t we?”

Edge grips at his nose bridge, sockets drawn close. “Yes… Yes we are—“ Red grins, eyelights sparking to life in his enthusiasm. “—Don’t Gamble Everything Away! And Make Sure The…  _ Original _ Keeps His Hands To Himself.”

“Roger, Boss, loud an’ clear.”

This was going to cheer the runt up. He just knew it, the bone-heads were good for cracking some jokes if nothing else.

“And Sans,” he looks up, just a tad more nervous at the serious look he’s being given. “Make Sure To Give Them A Run For Their Money. Can’t Have Slim Thinking You’re A Terrible Player.”

He grins, already planning on introducing the runt to Twenty-One.

* * *

“Lookin’ mighty spiffy there, Runt,” Hell, even _ Red  _ is dressed up for this Friday (Pap, had made him of course, but that's besides the point!) they looked  _ good  _ he was goin’ to teach the runt how to win in style, dammit! 

Slim, just laughs nervously tugging at the ensemble his bro had made for him. Shiny as hell, honestly, but it was nice. The Sleeves were loose and hid the marks that the little shit was nervous about, but still easy enough to move in as he liked. Pants, just as simple but sleek and well fitting, Slim looked like he could go to a real casino and not be too out of pocket (besides a-course, the height problem), “well, Edge did say that i should show up all the others..”

Huffing Red places the runt on his shoulder, “Ya got that right sweets, none-a-th’ lazy bastards but in effort— you’ll win just by makin’ it hard for them to focus!” And, hey, look another blush, this shit really was helpin’ the little shit with his image issues. Papyrus could take his lectures about his mouth and shove it, just this once.

“I doubt that but… i guess it  _ is  _ nice having a couple more things,” If Pap had heard that he doesn’t doubt his l’il bro would burst at the joints, always was a sucker for compliments. “The uh, others, what are they like?”

With a snort Red warps out of their apartment, maybe a block or so away from the lazy-ass’ place. “Eh, not like yours truly or nothin’ ain’t none of ‘em a gentleman like m’self. Comic’s jokes are subpar, can’t win a game of cards for shit.”

“so swindle him out of everything he has?” Runt was learnin’ this night was going to be great for the little shit.

“Tha’s right runt! As for ‘Rus, he’s better, probably more yer speed,” At the inquisitive look he rolls his shoulders, “quieter, ‘s got sweets for fuckin’ days, couple of others but they’re no joinin’ tonight.” He figured it’d be smarter to go with the more… slow going of the group.

“Sweets?” There it is; runts fuckin’ weakness since takin’ him to Grillbys. 

“Yes, ya little shit, he’s got sweets.” He can practically feel the runts excitement at the chance to get something sweet to gnaw on. “‘M sure i can get ya some within the first round or so, you just sit tight.”

The door lets out its usual shitty squeal as he pushes against it, his boots scuffing against the wood as he ambles toward the rickety little table cocky grin taking over his skull as he settles into  _ his  _ chair, steel toe of his boot hitting the table stand. “‘ey fuckers, we gotta guests tonight, so best be on yer best fuckin,  _ Behavior _ !”

There’s always some perverse enjoyment in watching ‘Rus jolt out of his naps as if Blue’s in the room yelling at him to  _ Be More Active Pappy! We’ll Get Through This Together!  _ So when his head swivels around the place as if his older brother is about to make him do yoga or some shit Red howls, just barely able to keep Slim from being tossed off his shoulder.

His shoulders slump, head making a soft  _ thunk  _ as he rests his head against the table again with a groan, “you have to stop doing that, red  _ some  _ of us have a weak  _ heart _ ,” it’s muffled into the wood ‘Rus’ clear disinterest in moving becoming ever more apparent when he to wiggle a lollipop through the gap of his teeth and the table.

Rolling his eyes, Red helps Slim scramble down onto the table so he can make a beeline to the bag of sweets, “Head up, asshole yer not allowed to drop off the  _ edge  _ today,” It’s a snort if he’s ever heard one Rus and Edge always were a stupid pair when together. “Pass a fuckin’ toots to the toots would’ya,”

Slim preens when he’s given the treat without fuss and simple cursory glance from Rus. “hey short stack, sure’ve heard about you— got razz acting like a hound dog,” A soft smile and there it is; runt’s smitten with the lazy ass. Really was only a matter of time, Rus was probably the Papyrus that all of them were chill with, he was just… easy. Easy to get along with, easy to mess with,  _ easy. _ “feel free to call me Rus, or Stretch. Either works.”

He nods more focused now on the tootsie roll that had been handed to him. Stretching out until his spine pop Red looks around the place, “Where’s comic huh? He finally admit defeat and bounce,”

“Hmm,” Rus pops open his other socket, focused on a pile on the couch (course the asshole would be napping). “heh, he uh, decided to take a full house of sleep.”

Summoning a bone Red lobs it at the pile without any real intent, “C’mon you fuckin’ hermit it’s time to lose all yer shit.”

Comic shambles ( _ shambles  _ like he’s some kind of mound or some shit from a horror movie) out of his cocoon on the couch before propping himself up like a grandpa with arthritis at the table. An’ then there’s slim, “... do you want some? You, uh look like you need it more than me?”

Comic blinks, like he’s not sure if that  _ really  _ a miniature Papyrus in front of him or if this is just some weird Reset-imagined dream. Ah, well. Fuck it. “Sure, pa—”

“‘S name is Slim, chucklehead,” Because it doesn’t matter if the runt looks like any of their brothers;  _ he’s Slim _ and that’s that an’ nothin’ else. “And don’t givin’ him anythin’ he ain’t won it yet!”

His little buddy just nods scrambling back over to his seat making himself comfortable against the bulk of Red’s jacket. It was time for them to cream the two knaives. He’d give ‘em a good talking to  _ after  _ that.

**Author's Note:**

> Rus, Exists
> 
> Slim: Can I Please Get A Sweet? Can I Please Get A Sweet?


End file.
